


A Handmaid's Tale Part II - Chronicles of a Busybody

by Bathea



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 00:16:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14841938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bathea/pseuds/Bathea
Summary: Cossiel, royal handmaiden to the Queen of Rohan, finds herself in a moral quandary. How can she uphold Gondorean virtues if her Lady chooses to adhere to Rohan's loose morals? Will she be able to mend her Queen's questionable ways? A spin-off to the One-Shot "A Handmaid's Tale".





	A Handmaid's Tale Part II - Chronicles of a Busybody

**_Chapter 1 Treacherous Linens_ **

_Edoras, 20th June 01 F.A._

_My dearest Lady_ Celwen _,_

 _I hope this letter finds you in good health. It has been a sennight since your departure from Edoras and I already find myself at the forefront of a battle of decency. Ever since my Lady Lothiriel, your dear_ sister, _has been wed to the King of Rohan, she has already started neglecting our ways. In fairness, her ladies-in-waiting or rather shield-maidens-in-waiting as I like to call them are very insistent on "initiating" my Lady in their twisted ways. Mind you, protesting their efforts are fruitless as I quickly came to learn. There is little to no difference regarding the female sex in Rohan when it comes to brutish behavior. These women can definitely hold a candle their male counterparts in both appearance and strength which I myself have had the utter displeasure of experiencing. To this day, I am still nursing dark violet reminders of utter ill-treatment, simply because this female tried to make way for a new barrel of ale, but I digress._

_I deeply regret to report that the marriage has not yet been consumed and I grow weary by the hour, as no traces of a legitimate joining are visible on the linen sheets. To my surprise, the royal household is frightfully unperturbed by these recent developments which again supports your earlier assessment of how little effort is being made to support their new Queen._ _Quite frankly, I am appalled by the lack of compassion they show for my Lady's predicament. Her station will only be secure once she has successfully produced an heir to the throne. Although I am told the Rohirrim are a frank people, I am not sure how this applies to my Lady as court murmurs were quick to compare her with the late Queen Morwen._ _I tried to draw my Lady's attention to this issue on more than one occasion, yet due to her husband's frequent visits, she seems to be very much_ _in demand. (A fact that I find very much ironic considering the dilemma we currently have on our hands.)_

_As you already dreaded upon your arrival to Meduseld, my Lady has not been given quarters befitting her station as Queen. I had hoped that the former Queen's solar could have been reinstated, yet King Eomer was insistent upon sharing his quarters with my Lady and apparently she is deferring to his wishes with no regard for her proper place in court. I suspect that she is trying to appease her new people by living as frugally as the next farmer's wife. In all honesty, I dread they will become too familiar with her, as Edoras' court is not overly concerned with tradition or appreciation for higher culture for that matter._

_To that end, there was a great dissent over my Lady's toilette. Quite early on, maids and "shield-maidens" alike have had no shame in showing their true colours in terms of favoring a more "simple" appearance. Their infatuation with simplicity is almost cult-like. The women of Rohan wear their hair down with no adornments (pins, caps, veils or the like). Even married woman - nobility and commoners alike- are preferring this hairstyle. It is downright shameful. I have seen many a man play with maiden's hair like it's their favorite past time activity. Unfortunately, my Lady has bent to these fashions with little to no regard for our customs. I have been insistent upon dressing her hair in the right fashion yet she more often than not she has gone against my recommendations. Only time will tell if her efforts are fruitful._

_I shall try my best to be a pillar of morality in these uncertain times and a source of support to my dear Lady._

_Your ever loyal_

_Cossiel_

* * *

Eomer of Rohan sighed heavily at the sight of yet another frightfully tall stack of papers. He had been kept at his desk for the good part of the day. Wearily, he combed through his thick hair with his fingers before laying back in his chair and arching his back. Governing, as he had painfully learned, required an uncanny affinity for administrative chores which he, always a man of action, seemed to lack.

But since his marriage to Lothiriel of Dol Amroth more than two sennights before, his struggles with state affairs were becoming a lesser burden to shoulder. Luckily, his lovely wife was a very detailed-oriented person, well versed in bureaucratic procedures. Among her countless talents were negotiating legal fine print in trading agreements, knowing the ins and outs of trading procedures and most importantly, her calm nature in council meetings which on more than one occasions had helped to smooth ruffled feathers.

To the astonishment of many Gondorean nobles, his dear sister in law Celwen included, Lothiriel had been made a permanent member of the council. As it was not common in Gondor for women to hold public offices, Lothiriel's position was met with disdain by Gondorean nobility and also some protest by minor Rohirric nobles. Yet Eomer and the council could not have been happier about this choice as his wife proved to be a valuable asset - even in this short amount of time.

Thinking about these recent developments, a smile came to Eomer's lips. His marriage to Lothiriel had not been arranged. No advisor could have foreseen this pure and raw happiness that had been bestowed upon them. This gift, his soul mate, and partner in crime. He loved her so much, so passionately that he feared he was going mad. Quite frankly, it had been a very maddening courtship to begin with.

After so many dark moments, fears and destruction, Eomer could imagine not only a future for his people but also for himself. How long had he toiled for the safekeeping of his people? How many restless nights had he worked to bring his people through the winter? Truthfully, they still struggled. But now, Eomer of Rohan dared to hope for a brighter future - because of his love and Queen.

Suddenly, his musings were interrupted by a sharp knock on the richly carved double-doors.

He put his quill down and straightened his back.

"Enter."

Leofrid, a young, gangly rider peeked through the crack that had just appeared.

"Good evening, my Lord. I came to collect your correspondence for tomorrow's run."

"Ah, yes Leofrid, do come in. How was your run to Aldburg?"

The rider, carefully walking on the thick carpet, came to stand in front of his desk.

"Oh, aye it went swimmingly, my Lord. The letters were delivered without delay."

Eomer grinned brightly. "Without delay" was a definite understatement. He imagined that this lad would have been able to outpace the Witchking of Angmar. A very good choice indeed.

"Fantastic, I doubt any rider could have managed it under two hours."

Leofrid beamed at his Sire's praise and stood a little bit straighter. In his hands was a dark willow basket which already contained a letter. Eomer collected the sealed parchments from his desk and stacked them up neatly. He followed Leofrid's gaze and halted him.

"I still need to finish a report, Leofrid, you can leave the basket here. Alma has made apple tarts, I'm sure if you ask her nicely, she'll give you one before dinner." He winked at the young rider who took it as a sign of his dismissal. He put the basket next to the reports and nodding his farewell.

As the door clicked shut, Eomer looked ruefully over his hasty scribblings and finished the final paragraph with a sigh. Admittedly, he didn't pay much attention to the basket at first. Just as he sealed his report with the royal signet, his gaze halted on the neatly folded square of parchment, sealed with a blue glob of wax.

* * *

Lothiriel jerked upwards in her bath as someone entered the spacious ante-chamber of the royal apartment. After her visit to the royal horse herd this afternoon, she had wished for nothing more than a bath. Unfortunately, her maid Cossiel regarded bathing as a communal activity. Meaning every activity from choosing bath products,to washing extremities, to drying her hair was carefully supervised and commented on by the Gondorean maid. Although Lothiriel was a very even-tempered woman by nature, she had dismissed Cossiel when she had started berating her on Rohirric hairstyles.

This sturdy young maid from Dol Amroth had been a wedding gift from her sister-in-law Celwen who had insisted upon a help waiting on her hand and foot. Since her betrothal to Eomer, Celwen had feared that Lothiriel had been damned for a life in poverty. Naturally, the young woman had learned to not pay heed to Celwen's twisted views of court life from an early age but that hadn't stopped her from employing Cossiel as a royal handmaiden.

Lothiriel braced herself for yet another sermon on royal etiquette when a dark, rich voice sounded in her left ear.

"And who do we have here?"

She visibly relaxed back against the sides of her bathtub. A broad smile came to her lips as calloused hands stroked the back of her neck.

"Someone who likes peace and quiet my Lord."

A deep, throaty chuckle caused her skin to break out in gooseflesh. She felt his soft whiskers trailing carefully up the side of her neck, arousing her every sense.

"Is that so? I hardly remember a time when the Queen wasn't trailed by her bull terrier guarding her every move."

He punctuated the end of his remark by playfully biting her earlobe. Lothiriel let out a small laugh and bend a little more to him in order to receive his caresses.

"I think she has gone out to look for more compliant prey."

Eomer let out a laugh, kissed her neck and pulled an ottoman closer to the bathtub.

"There is always the option of an early retirement, my love." He grinned down at his wife who pushed herself into an upward position to face him properly. Her wet index finger stroked his mustache.

Green eyes looked at him with mirth. Yet there was a glimpse of exasperation on her face that she couldn't hide.

"You know perfectly well why I can't just dispose of her like that. Not this early, anyway. This will be regarded as a diplomatic incident which we cannot afford."

Eomer's brows raised in mock surprise.

"Is that so? I didn't know Gondor's ambassadors had postings in Meduseld's domestic realm. Maybe I should make a report on Rohan's annual linen cleaning. I am sure that would make an interesting read for Aragorn."

Lothiriel giggled uncontrollably as he then engulfed her in a hug while kissing her neck feverishly.

"Think of all the benefits we would have from sharing this vital piece of information."

"I do get your point, Eomer." Her laugh turned into a soft moan as he sucked a particularly sensitive spot on her neck. "I'd suggest we let her exhaust herself. Let nature run its course before we intervene."

His otherwise lovely smile suddenly turned into a leering grin.

"There is another natural calling that needs tending to."

Before Lothriel could say anything, her husband lifted her out of her bath as if she would weigh nothing more than a feather.

"Eomer, I'm dripping all over the floor!", she wailed when he pressed her tightly against his broad chest, making a beeline for the bedroom.

"Take heart, my dear, you shall be the figurehead for saving linens." He kissed her passionately while stepping in front of the fireplace. "And clothes for that matter."

She wriggled down and stroked wet strands of hair out of her face.

"Then you shall serve me as my personal dryer."

His glistening white teeth almost blinded her for a moment.

"I am at my Lady's service."

She snaked her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. Before their lips met, she breathed: "Words are cheap, my Lord. Let us make the best of it before we are hauled away for supper.

There was no complaint on his part as Lothiriel pressed herself tightly against him while pulling impatiently on his tunic. She pushed him against the side of the bed while he was toeing off his boots. The hindering footwear hit the ground with a soft thud as the young Queen tackled the infernal laces of his breeches.

The air grew hot between them. Their need almost palpable when Lothiriel came to sit on his lap, feeling the hard bulge that begged to be released. He kissed her wet skin ardently, sucking on her perky breasts.

She wanted to let herself go. The feel of her wet skin against his leather breeches, the sensation of his warm breath against her cool breasts - it was making her wanton. She pushed him down onto the bedding when he suddenly jerked under her.

"Ouch!"

In her hazed state Lothiriel had difficulty making out the problem.

"What happened?"

Eomer looked positively in pain. His shoulders crouched upwards.

"I - ahh, I must have fallen unto something."

Slowly, Lothiriel slid from his lap to inspect him more thoroughly. Eomer rolled tentatively on his side and the young Queen gasped in shock.

"You're bleeding!"

There, on his right shoulder was a furious red patch of skin. A small stream of blood made its way down his back, now that he pushed himself up into a sitting position.

She searched for the offending object and found a book laying on the mattress behind Eomer. Its cover was beautifully designed with floral engravings on the metallic surface. One of the sharp edges bared the evidence of the assault.

She bit her lip guiltily. It was her diary she used to bring with her everywhere. Nowadays, entries were becoming less and less as the new Queen was busy with her daily routine. Lothiriel picked up the journal and showed it to Eomer.

"I'm so sorry, Eomer. My diary mauled your poor shoulder with its sharp edges. Can you ever forgive me?"

He took the diary from her hands, not even casting a glance at the offending object, and threw it onto the carpet. His warm fingers seized her waist and pulled her back into his lap.

"Ah sweetling, only if you kiss me like that again.

She smiled sweetly as he stroked her still damp hair. Her arms went around his shoulders, carefully avoiding the sore spot.

"Like this?", she kissed him sweetly on the mouth and stopped to watch the indignant expression on his face.

He shook his head while she continued her ministrations.

"Like this? Her tongue searched for his, tenderly exploring his mouth, before withdrawing again.

"You little vixen, come here!."

She laughed breathlessly, as he devoured her with his lips. In a tender moment, he let himself fall on the soft bedding with her in his arms.

"Your wound!"

Eomer grinned and stroked a damp strand of hair behind her ear.

"Ah 'tis only a scratch my love. Now we can finally inaugurate the sheets."

She bent down until their lips almost touched each other. "If you insist, lead the way, my love."

And lead he did.

* * *

Cossiel, dressed in a grey veil and high-necked dress, nursed her wooden cup close to her breast. She was seated next to the other servants of the royal household on a large wooden table in the Golden Hall. Nobility and commoners alike had joined tonight's festivities. Usually, the young woman preferred to dine in the privacy of her servant quarters but there were a great many things in Rohan that were handled differently than she was used to.

Her gaze halted on the young Queen who sat next to her Lord husband on the great table in the middle of the hall. She leaned comfortably against the side of her husband who absentmindedly had thrown an arm around her shoulders. They were each engrossed in their respective conversations with the Marshal of the Westmark and a member of the royal council.

No one except Cossiel paid heed to the royal couple's affectionate gestures. She felt a mixture of shame and pity for the Queen as she imagined that her Lady wasn't really at liberty to fight off the King's advances. Not yet anyway. Luckily, there was a silver lining on the horizon. As she had come to prepare her lady for tonight's feast, she had noticed the red streaks on the crisp linen sheet. It had been such a relief. Unfortunately, the joyous moment had lasted only for a little while, as the King had re-entered the bedroom relieving Cossiel of her duties and "rewarding" her with a night off. It was downright frustrating to be shunned from her duties like that and by a man no less.

"Is this seat taken?" Cossiel flinched as a male voice sounded in her left ear. Due to the general noisiness that went on in the hall, the person had to come close to her.

It was that rider. Leo-something.

She looked downwards to avert his gaze.

"No."

"Grand." He took her answer as an invite and carefully placed his stein on the table next to her plate.

"Ye the Queen's maid - Cossiel, aren't ye?

"Indeed." Cossiel remarked dryly as he swung his long legs over the bench, pinning her skirt in the process.

"Oh, sorry, Luv." He smiled cheekily at her as she pulled the fabric from under his legs, clearly annoyed.

"So." He started, taking a big swig from his stein, eying her closely, "How do you like the Mark so far?"

"The Mark?"

"That's right. Rohan, ye know?"

"Ah." She felt increasingly uncomfortable partaking in this conversation.

"So?" He toasted to one of the riders sitting across from him before looking at her inquisitively.

"Ahm, it's been nice." She desperately wished to be in her room, away from the noise and especially from this man.

"Nice?", he chuckled at her statement. "Doesn't look like it though."

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. She took a sip from her cup and remained resolutely silent.

The young rider bent down to her eye-level, grinning at her.

"Are ye not allowed to talk? Is that why you are wearing that veil?"

She turned angrily towards him.

"Just because I choose not to speak, does not mean I am not allowed to, Sir."

"Leofrid."

"I beg your pardon?"

"It's Leofrid, lass. Just Leofrid."

"Is that right." Her fingers curled tightly in the fabric of her skirt.

"So what's with the veil? "

But before Leofrid could get an answer to the holy grail of questions, a young maid came to stand next to him, sulking visibly.

"You promised me a dance, Leofrid, Leor's son!"

Annoyed, the young rider faced the young maiden.

"Bronwen, could ye just hang on, I..."

Leofrid turned to Cossiel when he noticed her empty seat. As he stood up to search for the young woman, he only saw the grey fabric of her veil as she stormed off into the dark corridor next to the Golden Hall.

* * *

**Thank you all so much for the lovely comments on "A Handmaid's Tale". I really enjoyed writing it, so I wanted to come up with some sort of a backstory. I really hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I had writing it :) Comments are always appreciated. See you soon in my next chapter :)**


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